Primed Reboot
It all started off with a remarkably sweltering day, the heat being unusually oppressive even for a summer’s day. Little did the Earth know that this was in fact an omen, the shadow of the proverbial locusts that were soon to descend upon the infantile world as we knew it at the moment. And as the asphalt composing the roads that we as humans transverse upon violently hissed at its stellar abuser, we remained none the wiser of what was to come, calling this unusual phenomena nothing but a simple heatwave. In the street markets of New York, there stood quite a dashing young man, clad in a blue shirt adorned with white stripes that did little to cover his musculature overall, as he further complimented his upper garments with crisp, solid black jeans, stretching and enveloping his masterfully carved legs, his sense of fashion being portrayed, as they were clearly Levi’s. Looking down at his blue, extravagant (perhaps Versace) shoes and then looking back at a vendor who was hurrying to fill his request of two pounds of potatoes and ten pounds of chicken. The man about to feast on fried chicken and French fries upon returning to his humble abode, this man in particular, was named Isaiah Blackwell, and was looking forward to a good old unhealthy last minute breakfast. Returning to his home, having walked through the scorching valley that was New York City this particular morning, Isaiah wiped sweat off of his forehead, tanned from naught but a simple walk through the street, albeit he may have stayed there longer than he had planned to, for a particular, beautiful reason. His thoughts began to drift off as he began to put on his apron, having already opened the crimson door to his chocolate coloured wooden floors and entered the kitchen immediately. His mind began to focus on the events that occurred today, or rather, one individual that summarized all the events that happened this sweltering morning. To him, she was as sultry in appearance as the entire day had been, her seething beauty melting the metallic walls of his inner psychic dimension, blistering his thoughts and conducting through them to fill each and every crack and crevice of his mind. His body on autopilot, cutting the potatoes into perfect rectangular shapes almost passively, the memories of her platinum blonde hair and her luminous blue eyes that smiled at him earlier in the market scene distracting him from noticing that something pulled at his leg. The thoughts of perhaps one of the prettiest women he had seen since his high school days slowly faded from his mind, as he was jerked back to reality by noticing an ominous, almost psychotic, maniacal laughter emanating from the lower portion of his legs, being caught completely off guard by it. Scared as he was, Isaiah slowly looked down upon the source of such laughter to meet the eyes of a young black haired lad, merely two years older than a toddler, who merely looked up and giggled instead of laughing like he did prior, and proceeded to end the “joke” with the classic punch-line, “Boo! Got you this time Isaiah!”. “…”. Isaiah sweat-dropped. You see, Isaiah didn’t exactly live alone. Placed in the care of an orphanage after the death of his mother at thirteen years old, Isaiah discovered the fact that he now had a baby brother from the nurse who served as his mother’s midwife, though he was not told how she died. Always of the assumption that she simply died from the pains and stresses of childbirth, and with his father being absent ass normal, Isaiah resolved to take his little brother into his own hands and care, promising to act as both mother, father, and big brother to his little brother, no matter what means he had to turn to. Five years later, and here they were, the two brothers bound through their shared loneliness, Isaiah and Tobias, who is more readily known, and affectionately so, as Toby. “Cut that out Toby, I’m cooking, you almost scared the living daylights out of me!,” said Isaiah chuckling, as this was not the first time his little brother would attempt to scare him when he returns. In fact, little Tobias started this upon reaching the age of four, with his first word in the hands of his brother being “prank”. How this even occurred to Tobias in order for it to become his first word is still something Isaiah has no idea how it even became possible, yet it did, and was perhaps the most common word that his little brother would say up to this day, due to his mischievous light-hearted nature, the exact reason people found his plump round cheeks absolutely adorable. Isaiah’s words of exasperation were only met with further giggling from Toby, who walked off from Isaiah through the small hallway into the living room, sitting on the couch that perfectly explained the fact that Isaiah and Tobias lived comfortably. The smell of seasonings and oil spread through the air, as Isaiah could clearly hear his brother’s stomach grumble. “Isaiah! Are you done yet!? I’m hawwngry!” cried Toby, conscious of his own hunger. Isaiah couldn’t blame his little brother, the smell of the meat as it sizzled getting even to him, tempting him to take a helping of his own before the food has even been finished preparing. “Just a bit longer Toby.” Category:Story